The Duggar’s Are Innocent… I guess?

I had to go to Dallas for training for two weeks when I started working at the ticket counter.

The system we used was from the fucking stone age and it was hundreds of codes that were very finicky and they made me cry nearly every day.  So I requested to go to training since the person training me was absolutely useless.  My manager agreed, so off I drove to Dallas for two weeks of intense classroom training.

I was one of the younger people in my class and every other class I had taken, I had made some great friends.  Usually my classes involved me going to the bar every night or drinking in hotel rooms with six other people who I still keep in contact with, and have several pictures with.

But this two week class was the bane of my existence.  I didn’t make any friends in this class and I almost got fired by the end of the class because one girl took everything personally.

This girl was from Arkansas and she was… Oh, how do I put it?  She was a girl who seemed like she needed daddy to survive.  She was sick nearly every day, and while I was battling a horrible lung infection for the majority of this training, I understood.  She seemed nice at first, she even sat with me and invited me to the bar a couple of times.  But I had declined because I was certain I was dying and I ended up having to go to Urgent Care. I had lost complete use of my right lung because of how swollen it was in my chest.  Not pneumonia though, surprisingly.  But it was the sickest I had ever been, and I did not miss one minute of class.

gas mask

How awesome is this mask?  Seriously?  I really needed it too.  

My first lunch at the training center I was sitting with a flight attendant who was super funny.  She was great.  And the Arkansas girl sat next to me.  She had been talking to me that morning, letting me know that she was a Razorback, she was working on her third college degree in an advanced science.  If she was telling the truth, I will say that she was incredibly intelligent.  And when she spoke to me, she talked to me like she was highly intelligent, which I really respected.  However, after five minutes of talking to her, all I could think is how immature she was.  Some people are just really immature, and that’s fine, but it actually got on my nerves.

And if anyone reading this has read my blog, they know that I am, in no way, mature.

When she sat with me and the FA at lunch, I introduced her as a new hire who was “stupid smart.”

I said “stupid smart” because she was so highly intelligent.  I meant no disrespect.  I thought it was a compliment.  Apparently it was not.

Now, this girl had a very poised look whenever she heard something she didn’t like.  She would look straight ahead, bite the bottom left corner of her mouth, and take a deep breath.

The reason I remember this so specifically is because I saw it a few times and this damn look nearly got me fired.

resting bitch face

Suspiciously like this, actually.  I think she just had a great resting bitch face

I tried to be friendly with this girl, I really did.  She and I had a lot of shared interests, but something about this girl just screamed,”I’m just so lucky because daddy takes care of me.”  I don’t know if it’s true or not, but a lot of youth I had met in the south had daddy giving them money to chase their dreams before settling down and doing the good southern thing of getting married and having a thousand fucking babies.  For all I knew she was just a full time student.  It was over a year ago and the details about her are kind of fuzzy.

The straw that broke the camels back was three days before the end of class.  I was not awake yet.  My lung infection was starting to subside, but I still had a fever and I was taking a handful of prescribed pills in order breathe.  I was missing Alex, I was feeling considerably lonely since I didn’t really bond with anyone in the class at all.  I just wanted to go home.  So badly.

This, mixed with my intolerance for complete and utter bullshit at 7 AM caused word vomit to spew from my mouth.

This girl liked to be the center of attention.  Which is fine… most of the time.  She invited me to sit with her and half the class for breakfast, and I didn’t even have coffee in me yet.  She began to talk about how she had watched her friend’s wedding she was in on TV the night before.

She said that it was the most beautiful wedding and she saw herself as one of the bridesmaids and that it was just a match made in heaven and perfect in every way.

I looked at her and said, “Oh, what TV family?”

She gave me the look and said, “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

I shrugged.  “I was just curious, who you’re friends with is none of my business.”

“It was one of the Duggar weddings.”

“Cool.”

I was pretty disinterested and went back to my coffee.  But then she went on and on about how the Duggar’s are never acting.

“How they act on TV is how they act in real life.  There’s no difference.  They’re just great people all around.”

This was one week before the sex scandal, folks.

Now, my half asleep, drug induced conscious of sickness, homesickness, and overall exhaustion from not having a comfortable bed for two weeks hit me.  I blurted out, “Oh, so they’re bigots in real life too?”

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

The entire table went silent.  Two people dropped their silverware.  Everyone’s jaw dropped.

shocked face

WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

In my home state, with my own friends anywhere, this would have gotten a laugh.  This would have gotten an applause for timing.  But I wasn’t in my home state.  I wasn’t with my friends.  I was in a strange place with strange people who had deep roots in the deep south.  For one of the first times in my life, I felt like a true outcast who had truly and really fucked up and I realized it as soon as the words left my lips.

As rehearsed, Arkansas looked straight ahead, biting the bottom corner of her mouth before giving a calculated response.

“They’re not bigots.  It’s their christian belief and they can express it any way they want,” she said to me in a cold, calm manner.  And I don’t blame her.  In fact, I commend her for how calmly and politely she responded.  She had far more tact and grace than I had or ever will have.

I did apologize as soon as I said it.  “That came out far harsher than I had intended,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t agree with most of their actions.”

She didn’t say anything more to me.  She didn’t have to.  I excused myself, grabbed my coffee, and went to the class.

I was later pulled out of the class and had a briefing on how hurtful my comments were and how I was being incredibly disrespectful.  While I technically didn’t say anything that could fire me, and thank god I didn’t make a comment on the “Christianity” side of the Duggar’s reactions, I was let off with a warning.  If I would have criticized the Christian-like tendencies of the Duggar’s and argued religion, I would have been unemployed and sent back to Louisiana.

But I wasn’t.  This girl and I avoided each other like the plague the rest of the class.

The last day of class though, I went up to her and shook her hand.  I told her that I felt she would do well in our industry, and I drove home.  I never saw or heard from her again.  I have no idea if she still works there.

A week later the sex scandal happened and I didn’t feel nearly as bad.

I said a number of things those two weeks that were unwarranted.  Mostly she talked about how the few times she had worked the counter, she had really nice passengers.  And in that part of Arkansas, I had really good luck with people too. I drove through the town she worked in several times whenever I drove to Minnesota.  I had stayed in that town several times over the past three years.  Of any place in the deep south, that particular area was a very nice, very welcoming area that really embraced the “Southern Hospitality” mentality that I never really got in Louisiana.

Where I worked, however, I had people threatening to kill me every day.  I had drinks thrown in my face.  And when I had someone telling me how easy the job was and how everyone was sweet and nice all the time, I did laugh.  A lot.

Because she hadn’t experienced the hell that bad weather brings.

So, Arkansas girl, if you ever do read this, I mean it when I say “I respect your opinion and I’m sorry for disrespecting you.”

To the Arkansas Girl, I’m fairly certain you’ll never read this, but if you do, I will say I commend you on how tactful you responded and I do have great respect for you, even though I completely and whole heartily disagree with you.  I wish you the best of luck.

Have you ever had an experience where your mouth got you into trouble?  Have you ever had an instance where you were called a bigot for calling out crazy behavior?  Ever deal with difficult people? Let me know in the comments

 

 

Apparently I’m A Wizard

Shreveport was a common airport for airplanes to randomly land at in case any airports in Texas threatened bad weather or someone sneezing.

There were times where we would get 10+ aircraft landing at the airport and I would end up working an 18 hour shift and have to return in six hours to work another 10 hours to play catch up.

There were days where my job was a total and complete nightmare.

And then there were days where I was actually on the local news.  No joke.  I was on the news twice.  National news once.

Not even slightly kidding.

However I was pretty blurry and I had glasses on and my hair in a bun, so there’s a very slim chance any of you realized it was me.

We had an instance where we had flights divert to Shreveport, and our regular flights would come in and cancel, or our outbound flights would cancel due to a single snowflake landing nearby.

 

Because heaven forbid the south deal with snow.

Okay, I’m not being fair.  For someone not raised in cold weather, it can be terrifying.  My coworker didn’t know that cold weather can make your tires look deflated, so when he was going to come into work when it was 10 degrees outside, he called and said he couldn’t come in because all four of his tires were flat from how cold it was.  I told him that once he started driving they would become round again and back to normal, but he didn’t believe me because he was over twice my age and heaven forbid someone half his age knew something.

Ugh.

Anyway, I have a common theme with my airline job posts.

I dealt with a lot of crazy people.

Like, you have no idea.

People think I’m a fucking wizard, for instance.

We actually had really bad weather one day.  There was a tornado that was visible from the windows of the front of the airport.  Not close enough to cause severe damage to where I was at, but we could actually see the tornado.  So naturally the flights cancelled.

I had a woman who said she was a doctor and she shoved her way to the front of the line, telling me she was a doctor and that I had to un-cancel the flight because she had patients waiting for her.

I explained to her that there was a tornado and that it was a safety consideration since tornadoes have habits of completely fucking up aircraft.

“But I’m really important and I have to get on a plane today!  You have to get a plane out!”

“No, I don’t, because I don’t control the skies.  It’s a safety concern, ma’am, I can’t help you.”

Well, one flight did not cancel and it was the very last flight of the night.  And this flight had 52 people booked for a 50 seater plane.  This flight was severely oversold.  And this happens a lot when there’s bad weather.  It’s unavoidable.  This lady was standing to the side and was on the phone trying to make arrangements when I made the mistake of doing my job and checking in a passenger.  When she saw me checking him in, she literally shoved this guy away from the counter and started to scream at me.

“HOW COME HE GETS TO FLY AND I DON’T?!”

“Because his flight didn’t cancel, yours did.”

“Well take his ass off the flight and put me on the flight.  I’m a doctor!  I’m far more important than him!”  This guy just looked at her flabbergasted.

“I have to work too, you know,” the guy had said.

“Yes but you’re not saving peoples lives.  I am.  Therefore I’m more important.”

You’re probably thinking I’m exaggerating this story, and I’m really not.  I had people tell me all the time how they’re more important.  It pisses me off.

“Ma’am, I can try to put you on standby, but the flight is oversold so I won’t be able to get you on the flight.”

Oh this pissed the dragon lady off.  She continued to scream at me and tell me how I must not care about dying children because that’s who she was saving and that if she didn’t get out of Louisiana those children were going to die.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I left my magic wand at home so I can’t fix the weather.”

My friend told me this line, and I loved it so much and I had so little fucks left to give so I told this lady that exact line.  Her jaw dropped, but I think the realization of how little I was able to do finally dawned on her.

I never saw her again.

Have you ever dealt with people who thought they were better than you?  Have you ever used a magic wand to change the weather?  Let me know in the comments!  DISCUSS SOMETHING PLEASE!

Also, Alex has started his own blog.  If you want to read about how being an adult while working out and being a super nerd is working out, click here and read about his shenannigans of his ambitions to be a viking god

 

Tales of ANOTHER Crazy Biatch

Guess what guys?  I can finally tell you what my job was in Louisiana.

I was a ticket agent for an airline.  That’s right, I was one of those people.  I also worked the ramp and the baggage service office.  Occasionally the gate.

So guess what?  If you ever got stuck in Shreveport for any reason, you probably saw me and I probably had a super fake smile and told you about why there’s no way I can change the weather.  I also probably got drunk after my shift bitching about how passengers are total fucking idiots.

But don’t worry, I was a terrible passenger until I worked for the airlines.

 

My first story, which I think will set the tone for all of you, is about how crazy passengers can get.

 

I typically worked the late night shift or the early morning.  My favorite part of the job was working in the Baggage Service Office, or BSO for short.  This job required me to sit at a desk and help people find their lost bags, as well as replace broken bags.  I thoroughly enjoyed this job.  It was the best job.  You know why?

I got to go through people’s stuff.

I was legally bound to go through suitcases and document the contents. This job was perfect for me because I’m incredibly nosy and I love to see what kind of lies people come up with.  They’ll tell me when I’m taking the claim that they have a five thousand dollar gift (this actually happened) and when I opened the bag, it was just dirty clothes.  Those dirty clothes must have been expensive though.

 

So one night, a week before Alex graduated from Airman Leadership School, which is a huge accomplishment by the way, I had a crazy passenger.  Definitely not my craziest, but she makes the top ten hands down.  The main problem I had with this crazy bitch is she looked suspiciously like the original Crazy Biatch My friend and coworker T took the claim, and he pulled me aside to tell me the monstrosity of this particular passenger.

Apparently her car seat was a flight behind her.  She was yelling at him for the most part, telling him how inconvenient it was that her car seat was missing and there was nobody else who was missing a bag.  And how dare our airline miss a bag, because come on, we’re a big airline, of course we would never miss a bag. She then went on to tell him that she was going to get so many free flights from our airline because her car seat was missing.  We found a replacement to give her for the time being and filed a claim and told her that we could have it delivered.  She told T that she was going to come up here to get it because she wanted the airline to know how inconvenient they were being to make her come back to the airport at 10:30 at night.

Now, if you ever get into this situation, please remember that we are required to document everything you say so that when people try to get free stuff, they can refer to the file and realize that the person is being a pain in the ass.  This woman took the fucking cake.  She was the fucking pain in the ass of the week.

Fast forward to the last flight of the night.  My turn to work the bag office.  T comes with me to call the lady and let her know that her car seat had arrived.  Twenty minutes later she runs in, hoots and hollers about how inconvenient it was for her to drive up to the airport at nearly 11pm and that it wasn’t fair that she had to drive here to get her car seat when we could have delivered it (Can you believe this bitch?  I’m not even exaggerating).  She thanked us and left.  We were relieved.

Fast forward a week. Remember how I mentioned Alex’s Airman Leadership School Graduation?  I was at a table with a bunch of people a few ranks above Alex, as well as their wives.  Alex was asked to sing the national anthem and we had to take pictures with the commander.  There was a total of ten people at my table.

And sitting directly across from me was the crazy bitch.  These were assigned seats.  The universe fucking hated me this particular evening.

Now, you should all remember how much I love military functions.  After I pulled a big bottle of vodka out of my movie purse and started downing the drinks so I was nearly incoherent, Alex was up to sing the national anthem.

I video taped him, but if you listen really carefully, you can hear that bitch whispering in my ear about how my airline refused to give her a $1500 voucher for free flights because her car seat was missing.  Seriously, for over an hour, she was yelling at me when I was supposed to be supporting Alex at this god awful function.  I had a dress and heels on.  I had half a bottle of vodka in my system to tolerate this function, I had Master Sergeants asking me to share my vodka because they were veterans for these horrible things.  I was not at work, I was off the clock, and I consistently told her this, but she didn’t care.  She was pissed that her cars seat was a flight behind her and she wasn’t getting free tickets out of it.  She even traded seats with the person next to me so instead of me celebrating my husband’s huge accomplishment, I spent two hours listening to this crazy fucking bitch about how my company was unwilling to give her thousands of dollars over a car seat.

Then, at the end of the night, this bitch has the balls to ask me a question that caused me to choke on my drink.

“So, what’s the craziest story you have working with difficult people? Who was the craziest, most difficult person you’ve ever dealt with?”

Girl, you make my top ten list.

Puking on the Titanic

So I briefly mentioned this happening once in an old blog post, but I was thinking about how hilarious this story was, and since I can’t talk about my job, I’m running low on awkward stories, so I’m going to start telling you all about my awkward childhood.

This should be fun.

Back when Alex and I first got married, right before we honeymooned in Vegas, Alex found a Titanic Exhibit.  He knows that I love everything titanic, from the movie to stupid books about how it all went down.  I find this stuff fascinating, and so when he brought up the exhibit to me, I casually told him a little something that baffled him.

“We should go!  Maybe I won’t throw up on the real piece again!”

The “again” was the part that caused a large amount of confusion, to say the least.  Most people don’t make mention of puking at a historical exhibit, much less puking at a historical exhibit again.  To which he gave me a very strange look and told me to elaborate.

When I was about ten years old, it was around when the Titanic movie came out.  I watched it every day after school for over a year, and even now, I can recite the entire movie.  Word for word.  Because I love useless information.

When scholastic released those book catalogues to students and there was a titanic book, I would beg my mom to buy it.  So I have tons of childrens books that are infographics for the Titanic.  My grandma got me a Titanic piggy bank that you push a lever and the butt end of it rises up so the coin slides into the front of the ship.  I wanted my name to be Rose because I wanted to find my own personal Jack.

I’m telling you, I was obsessed.

This shit is interesting

This shit is interesting

And even now, I still reread all of those books because I just find it so interesting.

My father, who felt left out with my Titanic obsession, had a friend who was helping run the Titanic Exhibit in St Paul.  Since it was educational, and his friend got him free tickets, he surprised me on his weekend with us that we would be going to the big Titanic Exhibition.  I was ecstatic.  Except for one thing.

My stomach hurt really badly.

I hadn’t been feeling well for a couple of days, and this particular day my stomach really hurt.  I told my dad this, but he insisted that if I walked around, my stomach would feel better.  Since I really wanted to see the jewelry of Molly Brown and even see a real piece of the Titanic, I swallowed my pride and tried to ignore my stomach.

We went to the exhibit and it was insanely interesting.  We got to see old suitcases, jewelry, clothes, tons of stuff salvaged from the ship.  However, every ten minutes or so, I’d have to sit down to keep anything that was in my stomach down because as the day wore on, I felt sicker.

My dad tried to tell me that I was imagining things, and I told him that I really needed to throw up.  He just shrugged it off, as most parents do.  Not going to lie, if it had been me looking at my child, I probably would have thought the same thing.

Then, the big finale of the trip, there was this big pool thing that had the real piece of the Titanic.  It had to remain underwater because of the rust, but it still had the windows in it and the air smelled of something.  To be honest, it’s too far long ago that I would remember.  I think it was salt water.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it's been sealed so it won't rust away into nothing.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it’s been sealed so it won’t rust away into nothing.

My brother and dad were standing on the rails, looking down on the piece of the ship and my dad was telling my brother about the rust issue with the ship and why it had to stay underwater.

This is when I couldn’t hold the contents of my stomach any longer.  I start pulling on my dad’s shirt, telling him I’m going to puke, to which he shooed my hand away, telling me that he’s busy telling my brother some information.  I start to wail a little bit, to which he snaps and tells me to keep quiet because he was talking.

Then I puked.

Everywhere.

There was so much puke.

And it hurt so badly.  I fell down while I was vomiting because of how violent the vomiting was.

This got my dad’s attention.

I remember him yelling at me, asking me why I didn’t tell him I was going to puke or why I wasn’t feeling good.

I tried to remind him that I did, but he just kept freaking out because tact is not his specialty.  I don’t think any puke actually got on the real piece, but I can’t be too sure.  It didn’t make the newspapers, but that would have been a great story to share.

I called my mom and asked her about this and she just sighed.  Yes, she remembered, no it wasn’t a weird dream.

So when I was in Las Vegas and I saw the real piece, I yelled, “I’M NOT PUKING ON YOU TODAY!”

And it was fun.

So there you have it.  My Titanic Puking Story.

That Time I Let A Foreigner Sleep At My House

Before I tell this story, you all have to promise not to judge me.

In order for this story to make sense, I should explain that my job works closely with travel. I won’t say where to protect my job and my privacy, but I work with people traveling all the time and I get to meet a lot of really cool people

Sometimes I even meet movie stars...

Sometimes I even meet movie stars…

There was one evening though, that a young Chinese woman came in with a man here from Louisiana. She had four suitcases and she was trying to get my attention. Since I was pretty much done working for the night, I went over to see if I could help her.

She told me that she had to get to Kansas City as quickly as possible and needed to know if she could buy a ticket that night. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help her that evening. I told her the next time we had anything going out would be early the next morning, but I didn’t have the ability to sell it to her. I told her to go online and look there, but her computer was pretty wonky and wasn’t working. She had been in the United States for less than a day, and she was scared.

I found out that the man that she was with was hosting her here in Shreveport, and he was a little on the creepy side, if I do say so myself. He was polite enough, but the way she was acting and the way he was talking poorly about her to her face and to me, a total stranger, tipped me off a little bit. I tried to ignore my instincts, but there really wasn’t much to be done. He kept telling her to get in his car, she kept refusing. She even turned me and pulled me away from him, mouthing something to me, something I couldn’t quite figure out.

She eventually made him angry enough that he stormed off. She went into a different part of the building and said she was going to sleep there until she could buy a ticket in the morning. I went back to finish up paperwork at my job, but my stomach kept nagging me. I knew something was up, and if I had been her, I would have been terrified. Once I had clocked out, I saw her in a different part of the building with her laptop out, trying to get ahold of her friend. When I sat down next to her, she started crying, telling me how scared she was.

This made me feel really rotten. She was mouthing, “Help me,” when I was telling her to go back with the person hosting her. Apparently he had a gun on every wall of the house, he had a history of mail order brides and being divorced from them, and she was just, overall, realizing that staying with him was a bad idea so she told him she had to go to the airport to see her friend in Kansas City.

She told me quite a bit about herself, and the more I talked to her, the more I liked her. However, after an hour of sitting with her, Alex was asking me where I was. I told her I had to go and every time I tried to leave, she would grab my hand and ask me if I could stay just a few minutes more. After another hour, I was able to go home, but not until she had given me a flannel toilet seat cover with penguins on it. She said it was to keep my butt warm in the winter.

True Story, this is the EXACT toilet seat cover she gave me.  It is SO DAMN SOFT!

True Story, this is the EXACT toilet seat cover she gave me. It is SO DAMN SOFT!

As I was starting the drive home, I called Alex and told him the entire situation. I mentioned that I had offered to bring her home with me and let her stay the night, and she had declined. Alex then asked me if I had insisted.

No, I hadn’t really. And the farther I got away from my work, the guiltier I felt. I thought that if I was in a strange place, where I hardly spoke the language, I would be terrified. I would be unable to function well, and I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about her well-being. I knew she was scared, and I was scared for her.

I turned the car around and drove back and found her trying to ask people to help her buy a ticket. I came upon her and told her to come home with me. I told her my husband was okay with it and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. After ten minutes of bickering with her a bit, she reluctantly agreed and put her stuff in my car. The farther from my work we were, the more bubbly she became. I think that I had earned her trust enough for her to trust me. We got to my house and I told her I had two dogs and my house wasn’t super clean, to which she exclaimed it was much cleaner than the guy’s house that she had stayed at for one day.

She gave us some awesome Chinese medicinal patches for muscle relaxing, a keychain for Alex with Panda’s on it, and a shell necklace. She gave us these things because she said she was so grateful for us helping her.

She noticed that we had Chinese art throughout the house and commented that she never thought that the Chinese culture really picked up in the States. She cried when thanking Alex for letting her stay with us, and Alex and I told her that we expect the same if we ever visit China, to which she agreed heartily.

We talked for a while, getting to know each other, and the next morning I woke her up to get a cab to get to the airport and fly to Kansas City.

A few days later she texted me, telling me she made it there safely and was staying with her friend, and that we should skype soon.

So that’s my good deed of the month.

Have you ever helped a stranger in need? Do you think I was being risky letting a stranger stay in my home? What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments!

Four Years A Bride: How I Almost Died

Part 1      Part 2

After dating Alex about a month, we had already told each other the dreaded L word.  I was sleeping over at his place every day, and nights that I wasn’t at his house, we were texting each other all night because we couldn’t sleep without the other one.  When I worked on base, he would walk to my work, pick up my car, fill it up and go grocery shopping to make sure I ate my veggies.

If there was a rare occasion that we both had a day off, we spent it in his dorm room watching movies and cuddling.  I had been in love once before, but never like this.  It was intoxicating.  When we were together, I felt complete and at peace, when we were apart, I ached for him in a way I never knew a person could ache for someone.

Once a year I would fly home to Minnesota to visit my family, always on my mom’s dollar because I was poor.  She would fly me home, I’d see the dentist and any other medical check ups I needed, mom would take me clothes shopping, my friends would throw a party and we’d either get drunk or just hang out, and so on.  This trip, I remember a very distinct conversation with my mom about my relationship with Alex.

I told her that I was going to marry Alex.  I just knew that I was going to marry him.  Alex and I started joking about it after two weeks of dating, saying “if we get married.”  When the one month mark hit, we were saying “When we get married” and neither of us corrected the other.

My mom told me that I needed to wait at least six months so I could get to know him.  She said that I needed to be careful because he could be someone who is abusive, and to be fair, she made a lot of really good points.  The points she made, honestly, are points I make to people when they mention marriage after knowing someone for a year.

But I was 20 years old, I thought I knew everything.  I told her that we were going to get married probably in June, and while he hadn’t proposed yet, I knew he was thinking of doing it, he had told me as much.

But not this romantic

But not this romantic

My mom tried to talk me out of it and she said she wanted to meet him before I considered marrying him and that we should plan a trip to visit all of our families before getting married, but we lived in Alaska and he was newly enlisted, he was just as broke as I was.    But as always, my mom knew best, and her advice was really solid advice.  But I just didn’t want to listen.

I got my wisdom teeth taken out two days before I flew back to Minnesota, and the day after I was so high on pain meds that I didn’t remember my brother sitting with me on the couch singing Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Nor do I remember my step dad talking to me, or anything.  I do remember yelling at my mom that I wanted a hamburger smoothie and that I had to have Greek yogurt, to which she laughed and told me to shut the hell up.

The day I flew back to Alaska, Alex was going to meet me at the airport.  He had my car, after all.  When I landed in Fairbanks, I was still a little out of it from the meds, but I saw him at the baggage claim, standing there with a worried look on his face.  When he saw me, he opened his arms and I ran to him, refusing to let go of him.  There were a few people there cooing and awing, but we had only been apart a week, and to us, it felt like an eternity.

We got my suitcase and went back to his dorm.  We fell asleep holding hands.

The next morning I had to go back to Fairbanks to find out when I was supposed to work at the deli, and I knew that I had to work that night at the bowling alley, but I was still kind of out of it.  I had to take a Vicodin the night before and I don’t think it was completely out of my system.  I was also jet lagged.  That day, it was mid-January and it was -44 outside with drifting snow.

I was a fearless driver, never afraid of speeding and never afraid of anything happening to me because come on, nothing bad ever happens to me.  I was naïve.

I fell asleep behind the wheel for an instant, going 65 on the highway with drifting snow.  When I woke up, I saw I was going head first into a snow bank, I overturned, spun out of control, and my car flipped and landed in the ditch.

It all happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what was happening.  The car was spinning then suddenly I was upside down, the roof of my car had caved in and was nearly touching my head, the engine turned off, stuff was everywhere, and I was staring at a St Christopher medal that was on my visor.  I saw cars driving by, I saw the snow falling, and the seatbelt was causing me pain for restraining me in my chair.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I remembered I started screaming, but it seemed so far away.  I didn’t feel like I was in my body because I was so scared.  I remember seeing a woman a few feet away from my window, looking in to the window.  I started to pound on the window, screaming for help and she ran away.  I was trapped upside down, unable to move, my body paralyzed with fear.  I found my phone somehow and dialed the last number I had called.

It was Alex.

He picked up on the second ring, a little bit of fun in his voice.  “Did you butt dial me?” he said with a chuckle.

“OH MY GOD ALEX I JUST FLIPPED MY CAR AND I’M TRAPPED AND I’M SCARED AND I’M UPSIDE DOWN AND I JUST PAID OFF THIS CAR AND CUT THE INSURANCE LAST WEEK OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE!”

Let me tell you, not the best way to go about this kind of situation.  I could only scream.  I remember him trying to calm me down and say it without screaming and I continued to be hysterical, screaming that I was probably going to die because it was -44 outside that day and I was in the ditch somewhere between North Pole and Fairbanks.   Oh, and because I was trapped upside down.  Can’t forget that bit.  The blood was going to my head.

He said he was going to hang up and have the dispatcher call me.  I cried that I didn’t want him to hang up and he did.  A few minutes later a dispatcher called me and told me to stay calm.  In the few minutes where I was waiting for my phone to ring, I pushed myself up into my seat and unclasped the seatbelt and slid to the roof of my car, laying on the ceiling, no longer upside down.  The dispatcher asked me if I was okay, and I told her no because I had just paid off the car and cut the insurance.  She asked me if I was physically injured and I told her no.

However, when you have that much adrenaline, you don’t feel anything.  The fire department, an ambulance, and the state troopers arrived and they asked me if I could crawl to the back seat and climb out the back window.

I had so much shit in my car that I couldn’t leave the front seat.  They asked me if I had a blanket to cover my face and I pulled it over and covered my face while they used a sledge hammer to break the window.  The pulled the blanket away from me and placed it over the broken glass while I crawled out the window.

Since this day was a horrible day, my ass got stuck in the window.  Since I was still hysterical from flipping my car and being totally fucking broke, I started screaming because my ass was trapped in that fucking car.  I think the responders were trying not to laugh at my yelling, “OH MY GOD MY ASS IS STUCK! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I got into the ambulance and they gave me a once over, making sure I still had feeling in my legs and arms, checking my blood pressure, which was 180 over 120.  Apparently that’s really fucking high.

My eyes were fully dilated, I was shaking, I was cold, but I was alive.  They told me if I hadn’t of worn my seatbelt, I’d be dead.  If it had been summer and there was no snow to cushion the fall, the car would have compressed more and I would have died, if the glass had shattered in the right way, it would have blinded me.  All the conditions were perfect for me to come out injury free for the most part.

As they were telling me this, I realized my hand feel really warm.  I looked down and saw that it was covered in warm blood.  Since my adrenaline was still ridiculously high, I screamed “OH MY GOD I’M BLEEDING TO DEATH!”

A small piece of glass was taken out of my hand and they put a band aid on it, cleaning the blood off.  The cut didn’t even need stitches, but my blood pressure was so high that it was flying out of me.

They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I didn’t have health insurance so I couldn’t afford it.  They called a tow truck and I waited in the troopers car.  I got my phone and called Alex, telling him I was fine and I was broke and had no idea what to do.  I called my mom and got her voicemail, telling her to call me when she promised to not get mad.  I called my roommate to tell her that I got into an accident and I was okay.  I called my managers at each job and told them that I couldn’t work that day because I had no transportation because I totaled my car.

When my mom called me, she said she wouldn’t get mad.  She promised.  And I told her I flipped and totaled my car. She asked me if I was hurt, I said no.  Then she started to scream at the top of her lungs.  I almost dropped the phone.

The tow truck driver yelled at me because the key was missing from the ignition, but I had no idea where it had fallen.  I thought it was in the engine.  To this day, I have no idea where that key went.  They towed the car to the house I was staying at, and I did the one thing that I had wanted to do since the car started spinning out of control.

I really had to shit.

That whole, “Always wear clean underwear when you get into a car accident,” is no lie.  My god, since the moment the car went upside down, it was painful to hold in.  It was so fucking insane, I was so relieved to see a toilet.  There is no greater happiness than seeing a toilet after you total your car.

Hello beautiful... I am going to destroy you

Hello beautiful… I am going to destroy you

My coworker at the bowling alley offered to pick me up and take me to the Air Force Base to see Alex, and I really needed to work.  I went into work, letting Alex know I was on base, and told my manager that I wanted to work my shift after all.

She said I was fucking crazy.  And she was right.  I should not have worked.

Now one thing, when I flipped the car, I almost died.  I saw my life flash before me, but not like seeing all these things that I had done.  I saw all the things I didn’t do.  All the things I wanted to do in my life.  I saw Alex in a way I never saw him before.  I saw myself growing old with him, I saw him not just as my boyfriend, but as my companion, my husband, my soul mate.  When I was trapped upside down, all I thought through all of that, besides emptying my bowels, was, “If I get out of this alive, I have to tell Alex I love him.”  Alex and I had talked marriage, but I didn’t realize just what that entailed, and after flipping my car and nearly dying, I realized exactly what that meant.  I didn’t want to spend another day without Alex.  I wanted to grow old with him.  I wanted to wake up next to him every day, to fight with him, to buy a house together.  I wanted all that mushy stuff.  I was tired of moving every few months, I was tired of working two full time jobs just to make ends meet.  I was tired of being so lonely.  I was tired of being so damn strong.  I wanted to be able to lean on someone, even if just for an instant.  I wanted Alex to be with me for the rest of my life, and I realized at that moment exactly what that entailed.

As soon as he found out I was at work, he had the troll drive him to the bowling alley.  When he saw me, he went from walking to full blown sprinting. I didn’t even see him enter the building, but my manager did, and she started giggling when she saw him run.  He tackled me, squeezing me so tight I coucouldn’teathe.  He touched my face, he felt to make sure I wasn’t hurt, he kissed me.  He was almost in tears.

To say the least, I found out he felt the same way.

I was only able to work a few hours of my shift.  When the adrenaline calmed down, I was so dizzy that I nearly passed out.  I was trying not to cry.  I was so incredibly exhausted that I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.  My coworker said she’d cover the rest of my shift and my manager said it was okay for me to leave.  I was going to walk to Alex’s dorm, which was about a quarter of a mile away, but my coworker called her husband and had him drive me the short distance.  He offered to walk me to the door, but I said no and walked myself.

When I got to Alex’s dorm, he just sat and held me as I started to cry.  I had no idea what was going to happen.  I couldn’t afford a new car.  I could barely afford my rent.  Alex wasn’t allowed to live off base so we couldn’t get an apartment together unless we got married.  I was afraid of what the coming months had in store for me.

The next day my body was so sore and stiff that I couldn’t even move.  It hurt just to sit up.  So I called into work and my manager had already given my shift away because she knew I’d be sore.  Alex didn’t have a car, and since he’s an asshat in situations like this, he made me walk all over base to get anything I’d need for the next few days.  That was the most painful day of my life.

A week later I was back to working both jobs, taking a taxi to work or having my friend pick me up to go to the base.  My mom gave me a loan of cash to buy a ’97 Buick LeSabre, which I drove for two years.  When I went back to work at Safeway, my manager told me that I was no longer dependable and that I needed to quit or she’d find a way to fire me.

But Alex came to the rescue…

 

Have you ever almost died?  Have you ever been in a situation where you were given an ultimatum?  Did your significant other ever save your life?  Let me know in the comments!

Crazy Yacht Parties: Tales Of A Crazy Biatch Bonus Round

Have you read about Marjorie before?  If so, continue, if not, here’s some context.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

 

So, of course, Marjorie had a lot of other stories that I just couldn’t fit in because they just weren’t as bat shit crazy as the rest of her stories, but there was one that I remembered, and I thought, “My god, this would get me so many views and people might use these stories in work seminars to explain why you should avoid crazy—I SHOULD TOTALLY TELL IT!”

So, alas, here is the story of how Marjorie told me about how she threw a party on her yacht when her dad died.

Yes, you read that right.

Marjorie claimed to be a gold digger.  However, I thought gold diggers were supposed to be extremely pretty and hot and pretty much super models, something that Marjorie wasn’t.  She wasn’t ugly by any means, but she was fairly average looking, and on the heavier side.  When I think gold diggers, I think more along the lines of Kate Upton.

Definitely not Marjorie

Definitely not Marjorie

However, she said that in her home state, she had a bunch of sports cars and sports boats, and even a yacht, because her sugar daddies and ex-husbands believed in taking care of her in the best possible way.

At this point, I figured that she must be delusional, but I smiled and let her continue her bat shit craziness.

She told me that her dad was a military officer and she had 5 or six siblings, I forget honestly.  She said that she and her siblings all hated their dad, but before she told me that, she said that her dad died a few years ago.

I told her I was sorry and her response was something along the lines of, “Oh it’s no big.  We all had a huge boat party to celebrate when he died.  We were so drunk!  It was so crazy!”

When I gave her a look of horror, she went on to explain.  “Oh, my dad was a total asshole.  We hated him.  So we had a big party on my yacht to celebrate him dying.”

Because, you know, that’s what you do when someone dies.  Have a party on a yacht.

She went on to explain all the things that they did on her yacht, and how they all did their greek mythology worship, which to me made no sense.  A friend of mine who is extremely well versed in greek mythology laughed quite a bit when I told her Marjorie’s “religious beliefs” because Marjorie was totally and completely misinformed about what each god represented.  Also, it was increasingly difficult to follow her stories, they kept changing.  I’m sure if she told that story now, the party would have been on her own private cruise ship, because her sugar daddy owned Princess Cruises or something like that.

I don’t know, I just know that the stories seemed to never end.

What is the craziest thing you’ve heard people do when someone dies?  Did you enjoy the stories about Marjorie?  Let me know in the comments!